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I chew on my lower lip.
No, I didn’t make Torin anything for his birthday but…I’m not sure Torin and Iarefriends. Engaged to be engaged, yes. Friends? Not exactly.
No.
Did you make the king cookies for his birthday?
No.
Did you make Dad cookies for his birthday?
No.
Did you make Torin’s butler cookies for his birthday? Or any of the other bodyguards?
Fuck. This sounds bad when she spells it out like that.
No.
I see.
I’m not friends with any of them.
You don’t care enough about Diarmuid or Dad to make them cookies?
I don’t reply to that.
I look at the cookies spread out over the marble countertops in the palace kitchen.
I probably went overboard.
Jonah is a big guy with a big sweet tooth—and I promptly shut down any further thoughts about his size and the fact that I’ve noticed it repeatedly over the past several months. But it’s difficultnotto notice it. His height—six-four. The size of his hands—big enough to span my entire lower back as he guides me through doors and crowds. And logically then, big enough to span most of my ass. Or my breast…twice.
I lift a hand and rub my forehead. Ihaveto stop that. I can’t think about how easily he could lift and carry me. How big his feet are. How wide his shoulders are. How deep his voice is.
Okay, his voice isn’t about his size. But I also really like it…
How good of friends are you and Jonah?
I can’t tell my sister the things Jonah and I talk about. She doesn’t need to know. She would worry if she knew I was prepared to enter a loveless, sexless marriage.
We just spend a lot of time together. He’s always with Torin. And we’ve gotten to know each other. I just thought this would be nice.
It is nice.
I stare at the cookies.
I probably shouldn’t be making him cookies.
But heismy friend. And he loves these cookies. Sure, I made too many, but is there such a thing as doing too much for someone you care about?
And…I want to do something for him that makes him smilethatsmile. The one that he doesn’t let show very often. The one that makes him seem more approachable, I suppose.
He’s always so in control, so in charge, so decisive and sure. But every once in a while, he relaxes and lets his guard down. Like when it’s just him and me and Torin, and Torin and I aren’t arguing, and we’re outside of the palace, and we’re just hanging out.
That doesn’t happen often, but, for instance, when we were in D.C. for the energy summit, and Torin and I had both had successful meetings—separately, of course—and the three of us were having a drink in Torin’s suite, and we were all happy and on the same page.
Jonah was relaxed then. He was happy. He wasn’t refereeing between Torin and me. He wasn’t on guard, thinking about our safety, or taking care of either of us, making sure we had our phones, coats, water, coffee, or anything else we might need.